


You want it darker

by gelukstraan



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bloodplay, Dream Sharing, F/M, Love Confessions, Oral, Smut, dark themes, michael really does not like spoilers, smut with plot, tickling the antichrist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-08-27 02:30:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16693741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelukstraan/pseuds/gelukstraan
Summary: “It’s true what they say then, only the strong survive.”Reader is a witch who meets Michael after he performed the seven wonders. Is he the one who always seemed to appear in her dreams?Or: Tickling turns in something much more.





	1. Part 1

_A beast devouring the rotting flesh in front of it, teeth sinking in skin that stinks of decay. It’s human flesh, I only realize seconds later. Shallow breathing and the sounds of moans disappearing in the mist surrounding us. The beast does not seem to notice me, too hungry for the flesh it doesn’t have to work for. The other beast does notice me, though. Blonde curls that still seemed to shine despite the fact there is no light for it to reflect._

_“It’s true what they say then, only the strong survive.” The voice is too smooth for the supposed beast it belongs to. I expected it to sound more raw, for him to sound more hoarse. The bodies around me all smell of decay, the sweet decay of death. His voice sounds just like that, sweet as decay. Like a too ripe apple. The sweet smell inviting you to take a bite, seducing you to bring the forbidden fruit to your lips. The rotten taste is what will make you spit it out. Poisoning your taste buds, the taste of death forever in your mouth._

_“I am not strong.” I tell him, walking away from the beast. He follows me instead, picking up his pace to walk beside me. Looking around, all I see is mist and death. The sky is a dark grey, the sunlight seems eager to penetrate through the darkness, but it is not strong enough. There won’t be light for a long time. I look at him, the beast clothed in black designer clothes. “Where are we?” He cocks his head, a smile playing on his full lips. “I don’t know.”_

_I recognize the city, but I can’t give it a name. Buildings are either collapsed, or on the verge of collapsing. There are more people here, some death, and some alive. A chaos of fear. Fire burning in the sky, fire burning the buildings and fire burning the people. The blonde boy who followed me is gone now, but I still feel his presence burning._

_The white lace of the dress slowly turns a deep red. A cigarette between my lips, sucking the nicotine into my lungs. The chaos surrounding me does not affect me at all. Watching the fire grow with each scream they scream. Blowing the smoke out, watching it collide with the burning around me. Watching how the cigarette slowly burns away between my fingers. Bloodstained cigarette buds are lying around me, blood is on the cigarette between my fingers as well. Closing my eyes, the screams feeding the darkness inside. Bodies burned to dark grey ash, flames is all I can see._

I wake up screaming, gasping for air, the feeling of something heavy on my chest. It doesn’t take long for me to realize it had been just a dream. The illusion of the taste of blood and nicotine still lingering in my mouth. Sitting up straight, combing my hair with my fingers. The room is still dark, the only light is coming through the creek between the curtains. According to my phone it is only 6:07, there is still some time left before the alarm goes off. Instead I decide to leave my bed for a shower.

The hot water makes me feel a bit calmer. I try to remember more details of the dream, but it feels liking gripping for something I can’t touch. I had this dream before, but there was never another person in it. I was never really good at the clairvoyance thing, so I always pretended that the dreams were just that, dreams. But they had come back more regular then before. So maybe it was something. I didn’t want to worry the supreme with everything that was going on. The warlocks once again demanded an unnecessary amount of attention from her. She did not talk much about it, but I had heard Zoe whisper something about an Alpha. Rolling my eyes I turn off the shower. As if a men could ever be stronger than our supreme. Wrapping myself in a white towel, my hair still wet. Small drops of water are leaving a path to where I walked. I try to remember the boy more clearly, but how harder I try, the more I seem to forget about him. 

***

He is a danger, the blonde boy who just performed the seven wonders. Watching Misty Day embrace our supreme had brought mixed feelings. I was happy to see our sister again, but something felt off. Most of the time I smell the magic they carry. Misty’s magic always had smelled like the mud from the swamp she lived in for so long. But also like clean and fresh water on a hot day. All the witches had their own smell, all fitting them perfectly. Even the warlocks wear their smell. Some smelled like old books, rumpled sheets, and sometimes even like a later summer afternoon. He smelled like something entirely different. A smell so strong I could taste him on my tongue. A heavy fruit, something too sweet to be good. There is a spice in him too, but I can’t really name it. His magic curling around my senses. A blackness surrounding me from the light that desperately wants to shine through.

The beds here are bad. I was never really the one to get homesick, but I miss the safety of the academy in New Orleans. I don’t understand why they don’t do a thing. It’s not natural for a warlock to perform this kind of magic. It is not possible. I have to do something, I felt his darkness, had tasted the sweetness of it on my tongue.

It’s like a maze down here, every corridor as dark and boring as the one before. I feel pity for the boys who live here, feel pity for the light that doesn’t seem to reach them. If only they could get their feeling of being superior out of their way.

The library must be the most impressive room of this dungeon like prison. He is sitting there on the couch, as if he had been waiting for me. Walking slowly, as if I am approaching a wild animal, trying to look as powerless as I can. I need to pretend I am just a stupid little witch. I am sure that is how he sees us anyway.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask, sitting down next to him. He is reading a book, but I can’t see which one. He does not answer at first, taking his time to read the page. Only when I tap my fingers against my leg out of annoyance, he closes the book. “Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” He looks at me like I am an annoying child asking for attention. The look he gives me wants me to strangle him to teach him a lesson but also laugh at him in a flirty way. He really is handsome, with his blonde hair, pale skin and clear blue eyes. He does look like a proper warlock, speaking in that posh tone of his. Full pink lips, white teeth behind them. I wonder if he still looks this proper when he fucks. Will he be dominating, like his powers, or will he be submissive, begging for permission to come for his lover? Biting the inside of my cheek. I will not be dominated. “Do you always talk like that to strangers?”

“Only if they’re asking stupid questions.” I move myself away from him, pushing my back against the other side of the couch. His magic really is overwhelming me, snaking inside my nose, in my head. The taste of him heavy on my tongue. He smells different then his magic smells, something more boyish. And that makes it worse, the innocence of it makes my desire peak up, makes me want to do things I shouldn’t. “Why would a witch seek out the companion of a warlock? Especially since said warlock can overthrow the witch her supreme.” His eyes are hypnotizing, it’s like watching the sea at a stormy night.  “I am not that strong.” I tell him.

He comes closer, something is lurking behind the annoyance in his eyes. Something well hidden, something I am not allowed to see. I try to see it, try so see his mind. Try to find a way in. He lays his hand on my tight, wrapping his hand around it. It makes me lose all concentration, his touch burning through the fabric of my pants. “Get your hand of me.” It comes out weaker then I intended it to be. He obeys, a smug smirk on his face. “I thought we were having a moment.” My answer is as cold as ice. “You thought wrong.”

He was not wrong though, lying in my bed after I left him to his books. An ache between my legs that my own fingers can’t seem to satisfy. There was something familiar about the way he teased me, something familiar about his voice. I just can’t seem to find where it comes from.

*** 

_There, on the white sheets, she lays, skin turning grey, bones visible through the dried up skin. Eyes that once were bright now blinded with a milky white substance. Her hands slowly moving between her legs, soft whimpers escaping her. Moans sounding unnatural, due to the fact her throat had been ripped open by animals. Clothing torn apart, her rotting flesh visible for every living being to see._

_She smells like winter, a cold taste on my tongue. Lying in her bed of death, her hand between her legs. Slowly the live seems to return, with every moan she gives to herself, some humanity seems to return. I want to step back, turn my gaze away. But I can’t stop watching her._

She seems to follow me in all my dreams, bathing in the darkest parts of my soul but always finding the light. Tucked away behind thick layers of clouds, she always seems to find something I so desperately want to hide.  

I pretend that I don’t notice her watching me the next day. Pretend I don’t notice it when she follows me back to my room. There is something about her that I can’t really put my finger on. She appears to be quit ordinary, as ordinary as any witch can get. But I feel something in her that wants to get out, something that had been hidden for a long time.

Playing dangerous games, walking over a thread filled with doubt. There is poison in the way she smiles, there is something sinister in the way she holds herself. And she may not see it herself, but I see all of it, feel all of it.

I left the bedroom door open, wondering what path she will choose. Will she come in, face the danger that she finds in me, or walk pass. Letting the insecurities of being not powerful enough walk over her. 

***

I watch the shadows on the wall for so long that they are starting to move. Slow, unnatural movements, the shadows growing larger with each second that passes by. A thirsty feeling, a hunger for something that can’t be satisfied with food. Keeping a watchful eye on the new supreme, he does not really seems to act out of the ordinary. In a few hours we will fly back to the coven, until then I amuse myself with roaming around, watching Michael Langdon do his thing. He is in his room now, probably reading a book and grinning to himself. He must feel good about himself, to play the witches like this. Fucking hell, I hate warlocks. There is something burning underneath my skin, like a wildfire it is spreading itself out. Fueling the hate I feel so deeply. If I close my eyes I can hear the fire burning, I can smell the burning of wood, paper and living flesh. Opening my eyes, I had wandered again. Standing in the hallway to his room. This fire in me, this darkness spreading like a sickness needs to be exterminated.

Long legs stretched out over white cotton. He is not wearing his stupid cape any longer, revealing the white blouse he wore underneath. What a stupid thing it is that they need to wear a uniform. I predicted it correctly before, he is indeed reading a book. The smirk only becomes present when he sees me closing the door behind me.

He sits up straight, putting the book he was reading away. “What were you reading?” I ask, sitting down near his feet. He is putting his arms behind his head, leaning against the wooden bedframe. “Harry Potter.” He tells without shame. This earns him a genuine laugh from me, placing my hands beside me on his sheets. Turning towards his face, he is watching me with bright blue eyes. He seems to be in a good mood, a content smile playing on his face. “Did you know some really religious people burned the books a couple years ago? They said the books promoted the devil.” I smile, trying to lighten up the mood a bit. Why was I here again? I can’t really remember. Being this close to him seems to make me forget a lot. I like his laugh and I like the expression on his face when he laughs. He looks really innocent like that. I like it that apparently it is so easy for me to make him laugh. He does sometimes looks like he doesn’t laugh enough and something in me wants to change that fact.

“For a boy who just heard he is to be the next supreme, you look quit melancholic all the time.” I lean backwards, my hands lying behind me. Almost touching the skin of his ankles. “There is not much to be happy about.” His answer is strangely honest, his eyes looking down, not wanting to look at me. And I feel pity, I feel sorry for this boy who is supposed to be the next strongest person alive. It must feel as if there is a great weight on him, maybe even the weight of the world. Maybe I can carry some of that weight for him, make him feel a bit better, even if it’s only for a few hours.

“Maybe I know how to make you smile a bit more.” Confused he looks up, he did not expect this answer.  Slowly I turn my body towards his body, keeping eye contact. I can’t hide the smile on my face, sitting a bit more up. To tickle him, at first poking his ribs, softly at first but when the breathless laughs are starting to escape him I become rougher. He is trying to grab my hands, but I am faster. Jumping on him, straddling his legs against the bed. My hands tickling a way to his stomach, searching for his weak spot. My other hand keeping his hands away from pushing me away. A girlish squeak escaping him when my fingers touch a particular muscle in his stomach.

Jackpot, I found his weak spot. Motions becoming rougher, his laughter becoming harder.

“Mercy… have mercy…” He breathes out between his laughter. His cheeks are pink from laughing and trying to get my hands off him. My cheeks feel hot as well, being a bit breathless myself from laughing. Only now I realize I am practically lying on top of him, his leg between my legs. I am suddenly very aware how close I am to his face and how his blue eyes are so clear this close. I stop my tickling, my hands wandering up to touch his ribs. I can feel the heat through the thin material of his shirt. Warming up my cold fingers.

His eyes are looking at my lips, searching my eyes again when he sees I notice. And I lean in first. Catching his lips with mine. Kissing him, filling my senses with his smell. And it’s all I smell, the boyish smell that is entirely just him. His hands are in my hair, my hands are placed beside his head. Sucking on his bottom lip, letting his tongue in.

I feel him everywhere, his leg going up, pushing against where it is starting to burn. Out of reflex I push my body back, grinding his leg, a small moan escaping me because of the friction. My mouth moving down his jaw, pressing kisses to the hot skin. My arms around him, pushing myself closer against him. His arms around me, turning us around so he is on top. He sits up, watches me lying beneath him. His hair is a mess, his skin flustered red. I did this, I made him look like this. And the thought alone can relit the fire inside of me. And he looks at me as if it is all he ever wanted, all he ever wanted to see. He goes down again, to press a kiss against my lips, slowly going down to my neck. I pull the blouse he is wearing out of his pants, let my cold hands wander over his hot skin.

Everywhere I touch him gives him shudders. If it is because of the cold of my hands, or if it is because he is just as starved for touches as I am, I don’t know. I feel his hardness through his pants, pressing against my stomach. He is still kissing my neck, leaving bruises all over it. Pushing my hand between our bodies, stroking him through his pants. The moans he makes are soft, I want them louder. I want him to lose all control. I undo his pants, pushing it down to his knees. “Touch me.” His whispering is needy. I feel his hand going down over my body, tracing the outline of the skirt I am wearing. I push his briefs down as well, freeing his cock. It’s fully erect, my thumb stroking the tip. Spreading the pre cum all over his length with my hand. My pumps are slow and lazy, making his moans almost sound whiny. His hand is under my skirt, stroking the wet fabric of my panties. “Take it off.” I tell, my voice nothing like my own voice. A low breathy moan escapes me when his fingers make contact with my clit. His rubbing is as slow as my stroking. Taking his time to feel me. I stop touching him when he puts two fingers inside me. Slowly pumping them in and out, making me produce sounds I did not know I could make.

And it all is so overwhelming, the feel of his magic on my tongue, his smell in my nose. “Come for me baby, I know you want to.” And letting go feels a bit like drowning. My body is on fire, burning everything I am supposed to be to ashes. The smoke that it creates making everything inside a blur, for a couple seconds I see nothing but ashes blowing around me. Whimpering his name, feeling a little dead.

He pushes himself inside me very delicately. Going slow, adjusting to the feeling of me. Letting me adjust to the feeling of him. It feels more than just sex, when he is fully inside, it is as if he is everywhere. Filling up my body, my soul and my brain. All I see is him, all I smell is him. And when he moves I cry out for the feeling it gives me. He is gentle, but with each thrust he becomes rougher. His hands leaving marks upon my skin. Taking control of everything, I let my head fall back. My legs around his waist. The ceiling dark, a storm forming above us. Watching the clouds circle around, at the same pace as his thrusts. The sound of thunder echoing in my ears, the feeling of rain on my skin. I feel he is almost there, sweat making his hair wet. I pull him down, feeling every inch of his hot skin against me. He is naked, I am still wearing my black blouse and skirt. Only my panties are gone. Strangely, this fact makes me clench around him.

“Come on baby, fill me. Make me yours.” Letting my teeth sink in his shoulder when he comes, muffling my own moans. Tasting his blood, a sweet sensation. Rolling back my eyes, letting the storm we are in take control of us. Feeling the sweet drops of rain, the taste of his blood in my mouth.

 

***

He only wears his underwear now, reading Harry Potter again. I am leaning against him, trying to count all the birthmarks on his body. Memorizing every part of him, reliving everything we just did in my head.

A bit unsure he calls out my name, taking me back to the present. “What if the dreams are real?” I watch up, not asking him how he knows about them. Giving him a somber smile, failing to stay positive. “The strong will survive.” Is all I tell him.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot has happened since the seven wonders. As soon as reader stepped into the outpost she got the memories Cordelia tried to conceal back. The dreams ever present. Michael does remember her, he knows she’s a witch. Will this jeopart the supreme’s plan?
> 
> Or: Michael really hates spoilers, and thinks people who give them should be punished…

_All I feel is nothing, watching the world burn away. Numbness becoming the epitome of who I am.  Smoke curling around my senses, filling my head with clouds. Warm liquid streaming down my body, hands grabbing for my ankles. Skulls crushing beneath the boots I wear. Their screaming not more than an echo from the past. I only care for the living, the ones I left behind are doomed for eternity. Their souls weeping for a salvation that will never come. Hell is only for the living._

Wandering around the halls like I did years before. Finding nothing but boredom in the corners. Even now I still remember where his room was. It is empty now, sheets collecting dust, the white becoming a grey color. I let my hand wander over the fabric. Feeling the memories collected in the sheets. I had loved him here, I had dreams here. His laughter echoing in the back of my mind every time I remember how he had killed my sisters. A dark feeling in my stomach, a storm of emotions beneath my calm posture. I wish I had been there that day, wished I could have stopped it all. Watching him bleed dry, the taste of my poison still lingering in his mouth.

The spell our supreme had put on me only worked temporality. As soon as I stepped inside the outpost it had all come back. Her magic too weak for it to keep my memories away. Being half happy that they were back. Giving me the time to strengthen myself for the fight that surely was about to come. But still, with everything good that came back, also the bad had come back. The grief of losing my sisters present as ever. My heart crying out for their lost souls, a rage building inside, burning away all the good that was left in me. Before everything what happened I would not dare to kill someone. Always thinking about the redemption. There is light in everyone, being a firm believer that good always wins. Even then, having the feeling I had about Michael, I still had believed he could be redeemed. I should have known then, that he was more than the warlock he posed to be.

I saw something in him, trying to reach for the light inside. Learning my lessons the hard way, not everyone can be redeemed. Not everyone deserves salvation.

Lying in the dust, watching the ceiling where once storms were created. Taking in the musty air surrounding me, if I breathe in deep enough I can still feel the last of his magic. That heavy sweet smell of him, the power that made me afraid of him in the first place. The memories of our moments are hazy. As time affects all memories, my memories of him had been clouded as well. But I still remember how I felt, still remember the familiar feeling of wanting. And I had wanted him so much, and maybe I still want him. Turning myself around, laying down on my stomach. Pressing my face in the dusty pillow, my body searching friction in the sheets. Pulling up my dress, pushing the fabric of the sheets between my legs. I remember these sheets, my body recognizes the touch of it. I let my hand go beneath the sheets, finding my core through it. Pressing my fist against it, finding friction against the hardness of the bones in my hand. My eyes are closing, pretending it is him I am riding my lower body against. Pretending it is him beneath me. The pillow catching the sounds of my heavy breathing. The familiar feeling building up in my stomach. My cheeks are flushed, letting my fingers slide over myself through the sheets. I can fool myself into hearing his breathing, I can fool myself in thinking it actually is his hand touching me. “Michael.” A small moan in the form of his name when I come against the sheets. My wetness staining it, closing my eyes, feeling the heat slowly fade away.

_There is a lust for blood in their chaotic screams. Running from them, my feet not bringing me forward at all. Caught in their lust, tearing apart the skin of my leg. Teeth sinking in my throat, ripping away the skin to expose my flesh. Heart beats buzzing in my ears, hot blood flowing over my skin, coloring the purple of the dress dark. Collapsing into the mist, feeling all sense of light fade away. The darkness taking over my senses, the taste bittersweet on my tongue. Claws destroying my skin, soon all I will be is rotting flesh._

I am surrounded by darkness when I wake up, the candle I had brought had gone out. The dream still a fresh memory in my mind. What does it mean? Is my demise truly that close, will my demise truly be that untasteful, that unsatisfying? Eaten away by those savages outside. Will it all be for nothing?

Lighting up the candles in my mind, watching how the room suddenly is illuminated in a golden light. I must go back to my own bedroom, fearful of getting caught by either Venable or Mead. In the months that passed I had not been here before. Afraid of the feeling being here would give me, afraid of the memories tied to this room. But instead of fear I had once again found peace here. Being here made me not think about my fallen sisters, stopped the worries filling my head. The only thing I saw was him. Sometimes I really doubted the supreme. What made her so sure her plan wouldn’t fail? The world did end after all.

_I want him so heavy, searching for colors in the grey. It’s driving me mad, I want him so bad. Words that have been written so many times before, thoughts cliché and boring. My hands finding their path over my body. Hovering over the parts where I like them the most. Eyes rolling, the world is spinning. Calling out for him, his name a sweet salvation, curing the desires within me. Burning everything to ashes, the echo of their screaming is all that will be left. Forever in my heart, forever the taste of death on my tongue. The decay of my sanity, the extermination of the light within. Teeth sinking into skin, the same feelings all over again. I’ve been here before. This happened before, and will happen again and again. Time after time, there will always be another one. I want him so heavy, it’s making me insane. Screams filled with agony, the heavy feeling of dying on my chest. A promise of light, the taste of spring. It’s driving me mad, the endless storm I am in, no colors in the grey. I want him so bad, it’s driving me mad._

Seeing him here was everything I expected it to be. I know myself well enough to know the feelings his presence would bring. Flames flickering with the power he brings, his familiar taste against my lips. It’s even stronger now, sweeter. The heavy taste of power always surrounding him. It feels like the roles are changed, old memories relived. The book I am reading feels heavy in my palms. The words not really reaching me, I felt him before I heard him. Playing a game, walking slowly towards my sitting form. If I close my eyes I can see myself doing the same thing. The words he speaks are the same I once said. “Can’t sleep?” He does not sit beside me, choosing the sofa that faces mine instead. Flipping over the page, looking up. “Obviously.”

Will he follow me to my room now? Teasing me with my sadness, tickling me to make me happy? No, it won’t be the same as then. Too much had changed, we both are nothing like the ones we used to be. “I thought I killed all the witches.” He leans back, watching me swallow my anger away. I will not be dominated, I will not be afraid. “Didn’t I tell you that the strong survive?” Turning my attention back to the book. Reading how Harry kills Voldemort for the fourth time this evening.

“You told me you weren’t that strong.” He is sitting beside me now, without my notice he had moved. “I lied.” Flipping the page again, not watching his expression. He is silent for a while, I keep on reading. “Lying is a sin, you know.” Finally I look up, a small smile playing on my mouth. “And so is reading Harry Potter according to some people.” He is smiling, it makes me almost forget that the game I am playing is dangerous. “Don’t spoil me, I haven’t read the last two books yet.” And with that he leaves me alone.

I wonder if he knows I came back to his old room, I wonder if he can still smell my arousal. His fingers tracing the pattern on the sheets, maybe touching the stains I had left. I want to wrap my hands around his throat, want to feel his last breathes on my face. I want to leave marks in his skin, taste his blood in my mouth. I want to burn him to ashes, want to hear him scream in pain. I want him to fight me back, feel his magic taking control of me. Burning me to glowing embers, I want him to laugh in my face because of the light I lost.

I feel so lost, the darkness taking control of me ever since my memories came back. A part of me that is dying to come out and burn everything and everyone. A part of me that brought me to Michael’s room in the first place, the part of me that keeps the conversations we have lighthearted with a teasing tone. The part that gets aroused by just the thought of him. It is crawling its way up, searching for a way out. Searching for a weak spot, trying to take me over. And slowly, I let it.

***

“So here you are, what makes you think I would even consider taking a witch to the sanctuary?” I am sitting in the wooden chair, my hands placed on my knees. “I was just curious what kind of questions you would ask.” He leans back, there is something wicked in his eyes now. “Why would I need to ask you questions, I already know everything about you that there is to know.” The tone of his voice is ice cold. I know he is testing me, trying to reveal a bit more about myself. Grinding my teeth, gripping my knees. Trying not to answer something wicked in return. He does not know a thing about me, does not know a thing of what I am capable. “You are not that special, just an average witch who likes to play with fire.” He is wrong, I never play with fire. I am the fire, I am the one who is always burning. “The only reason you’re still alive is because you had some spare money somewhere to buy your way in.” I can’t look away from his face, even though I want to. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be here to ruin it all?” Biting the inside of my cheek. Trying to hide my smile, so he does believe I am the only witch in here.

“Why don’t you let all that anger go? It is what you’re fantasying about, it is what you dream about. It is where you are ruined.” Suddenly I let go of my knees, my skin turning hot.  

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll ruin you in the progress?” Standing up, leaning against his desk. Looking down at his face. He must think he finally has me where he wants me.

“But I already did ruin you, Michael. Back then, when you were just a moaning mess beneath me. Begging to be touched, so starved for my touches. So starved for love.” Walking around the desk, standing behind him. Gripping both of his shoulders with force. “Did you find somebody that could replace me? Did you feel that feeling you had ever again?” My words whispered in his left ear, his hair tickling my face. He does not answer me, but the way his breathing goes faster is enough of an answer. He had also been thinking about me, he must remember it all. “I’ll ruin you all over again.” I kiss him behind his ear then, tasting the sweetness of his skin. His hand is grabbing my hand, the metal of his rings pressed harshly against my skin. “Don’t make assumptions.” The tone of his voice more raw then the usual velvet feel it delivers.

Letting go of his shoulders, taking a step back. Walking towards the door, my walk more confident then I truly feel. Looking over my shoulder, my hand on the handle of the door. “By the way, Snape kills Dumbledore in the sixth book.” I leave the room before he can give an answer, his face one of shock. It might have been the funniest thing I have ever seen.

My skin still wet from the shower, hair a dripping mess. Pulling the purple bathrobe around my body, letting it soak in the water. When I walk into the room, the only thing I see before I hit the mattress is a flash. His hands around me throat, his body pinning me against my bed. I try to push him off, my body struggling against his strength. His fingers pushing into my skin, a wild look in his eyes. Am I going to die or is he giving me what we both want? “What the fuck did you do that for? I told you I hadn’t read the last two books yet.” He sounds more whiny then angry. It almost wants me make to laugh, for he looks more like the young boy who performed the seven wonders then the antichrist who destroyed the world right now. A choked sound is the only thing that comes out. My hands still trying to get his hands of my throat. He finally loses his grip. “That is what you get for being an asshole.” He laughs, letting his hands wander from my throat to the sides of my head. His long fingers going in my hair. “I should punish you.” The look he gives me is more intense now. “Must I say something like ‘choke me daddy’ now? Because I think I just proved I am not really into that shit.”

Instead of giving me an answer he kisses me. Mouth roughly pressed against mine. I fantasied so much about this that I had almost forget how good it actually had felt. His lips moving against mine so easily, the feeling of his magic slipping inside of me. The taste of him, his body pressed against mine. A small moan escapes me when he bites my lip. Sucking the blood out of the little wound. His hand under my robe, roughly tracing a path, fingers pressing into my skin.

Squeezing my left breast, his thumb circling over the hardened nipple. “You’ve been a bad witch.” His words said against my open mouth. My lips stained with salvia and blood from our kissing. He goes down, his teeth biting into exposed skin. His tongue licking the sensitive skin of my breast, softly sucking it. His hair tickles my skin when he goes lower. A small giggle escaping me, when he places his mouth under my navel. He takes of his rings, placing it on the empty space beside me. Without a warning he pushes a finger inside of me. My moan making him moan. “Already so wet, so needy.” He is too slow, testing every angle, feeling everything. Closing my eyes, the release slowly building up inside, I am getting so close. His fingers are enough, his words are enough. “Shit, that feels so good.” I can hardly speak out loud, being breathless from the pleasure. He is right, I am so fucking needy, if he would ask me to kiss his feet I probably would have done it in this moment. Not that I would ever tell him that.

He pulls out, I open my eyes. Feeling hazy, disappointed that he stopped. He is unbuckling his pants, keeping on his black blouse. He still looks so perfect, I intend to change that. He pumps himself a couple times before he opens my legs. Draping them around his waist, filling me completely with one push. I cry out for the sensation, he does not let me adjust to the feeling of him. His hands on my ass. He is very rough, it does hurt a bit. But I kind of like it, kind of like the pain he gives me. Biting on my own lip, reopening the wound he had made. The sounds he is making are filling my head. He looks so good in this light, he looks so good when he becomes lost in me. My magic reaching out to touch his magic, with every right spot he hits I cry out for more. And it feels like a battle, his magic circling around mine. Both wanting to win this endless fight we’re in. And he might be stronger, but I know a way in.

“Do you think you deserve to come? Maybe I just should pull out and spill all over your body. Leaving you like the mess you are.” I move against him instead, letting my own hands go down to touch myself. He slaps my hand away, letting his hand touch me there instead. Rubbing over my clit, bringing me closer to my orgasm. “I am the only one who touches you tonight.” A possessive tone, he must like the mess he made me to be.

“Fuck, baby, no one can make me feel like you do.” My praising seems to do something to him, his thrusts becoming less rough. He leans down, kissing me on the mouth. Silencing my moans with his own mouth. I pull away to breathe, touching his face, pushing his long blonde hair behind his ears. “You are all I ever thought about.” And like my words filling him, so does my magic. Gaining the control I always crave for. Letting his head go, putting my hands on his ass. Pushing him down, keeping him still inside of me. I slowly turn us around, careful to not hurt him. He is as much as mess beneath me as I was beneath him. Tearing his blouse apart, kissing the exposed skin of his neck. Riding up the release in the both of us. His hair is all over the place, his face shining with sweat. And he looks so sweet like that, the battle lost. The storm had passed by, the thunder giving nothing more than light. And when I feel him twitch inside me, I come too. When he pulls out after a while, I keep lying on top of him. His seed dripping out, wetting the inside of my tights. Kissing him lazily, combing his hair with my fingers.

There is so much pain to come for the both of us, the dreams must mean something more. Finding light in the darkness, finding a way out of the mist. The sun is still behind the clouds as it will be for many years to come. And as long there is light, there might be redemption.

I can’t stop kissing him, never wanting to forget the taste of him. My love for him is so heavy, I might have a way to save us both.

“This does not mean you’ll make it out alive.” He says, eyes full with sleep. Pulling the sheets over our naked bodies, snuggling against him. My head in the crook of his neck. “Neither does it mean for you.” A snort is my answer. Smiling against his skin, embracing the heat he brings. The end is just a thought for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had way too much fun writing this, because I am too that kind of person who would spoil a book or series. I was a bit afraid to post this, because the first part did quit well for my doing. I hoped you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it.
> 
> (Written with I want you (she's so heavy) by the Beatles and loft music by the weeknd.)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end is coming, contradicting thoughts filling up the Readers mind. To kill or to love him. Where it all once started with tickling fights, followed by spoilering books ends up in reader walking in on Michael doing a blood ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this piece about six times. I disliked everything I wrote, deleted it all and started over. Until I found some new songs who gave me inspiration. Please be kind, this part was such a bitch to work on. (And I am still not really satisfied with it.)

_Fingers sinking into skin as if it is butter. Wet blood heating up the cold of my fingers, an ache in my throat. I am so thirsty, so hungry. Bringing my lips down for a taste, my face hovering above the wound I made. The rusty smell of blood filling my nose, I can almost feel the warm liquid streaming down my throat, warming up my insides, wetting the dryness inside._ _I can feel my eyes rolling back when the first of the red liquid touches my lips. Wetting the dry of my skin, teeth piercing through cold skin. A thirst for the warm liquid streaming through the veins, the weak moaning sounds it is making just a boring background sound. I don’t care for this creature, I only care for what I want, for what I need. His blonde hair a mess, flames devouring his skin, his face the color of ash when I look up. Black blood streaming down my chin, staining my throat, dripping down between my breasts._

_I am the beast, I am the monster, I am the hungry soul starving for salvation. An endless loop of despair, forever the torture of a hunger only he can still. Forever burning him away, forever my claws in his skin. We both are the losers of the game we were playing._

Coldness washing over my body when I slowly wake up. I am not as alone as I expected to be, he is still lying next to me. His body a shimmering mess of sweat. Skin gold in the light that comes from the candles, claw marks in the shape of my fingers printed in his stomach, on the edge of fading away again. A panic rising in my stomach when I see the marks. They are exactly where I had left them in the dream, eyes shutting, the sound of blood rushing through veins an echo in my ears. Opening my eyes, lifting my hands to watch them. They are clean, there is no sight of blood, no sight of ripped off skin. The skin of his stomach smooth again when my eyes falls back on it. Shifting my body closer to his, my bare leg pushed between his. Seeking out his heat, needing him to warm up my skin.

Counting his beauty marks, following the veins that are visible beneath the thin skin of his eyelids. I wonder what I want from him now. Now that my sexual ache for him seems to be cured, what else do I need from him? I need him to die, my mind tells me. A mean voice in the back of my mind, the same voice that likes it darker. The same voice that would gladly rip someone’s heart out just to warm up her own hand. I think I search for someone in him who is not really there. The image I created in my head, the innocence of the boy I met in this same place years ago. That boy had died long ago, my heart missing him for forever. And it is not fair, trying to find someone in him that is not really there. It is not fair towards him, it is not fair towards me.

“What would have happened if we didn’t kill Ms. Mead?” I ask, fingers tracing the skin of his throat, watching his expression closely. “Then I probably wouldn’t have felt the need to kill all the witches. To take everything from Cordelia.” I nod, his words don’t really hurt me. I know they are the truth. Maybe Cordelia shouldn’t have killed Mead. No matter how cruel her sins were. If I were Cordelia I would have held Mead as a hostage, using her to play Michael. The warlocks I still would have killed, they deserved it. “If I were there, would you have killed me?” I sit up, looking down his face. Will he be honest? Is his honesty something I can handle? Will it make it easier for me to kill him if he says yes? “I don’t think so. Or maybe I would, but I wouldn’t have destroyed your soul.”  I can imagine it, see what he means. He would have killed me, because he knew I would fight him. But I don’t think he would want me gone for forever. “Could you kill me?” He asks me then, suddenly out of the blue.

“Sometimes I want to, but when it comes to it, no.” I am honest, if it came to Cordelia or Michael I could not choose between them. Not now I know the truth. He wouldn’t kill me, didn’t want a life without me. And it is heaven and it is hell. Knowing he cares for me, knowing I care for him. And it means everything and it means nothing.

I want him to die, I want him to live. Two contradicting thoughts. As long as he lives, the world will be death. But as he dies, I know I will too.

***

_I can see it clearly now, the sun is still behind the clouds. Waiting for its light to shine upon the dying bodies, waiting for its light to reach the ones still living. Creating new life, flowers growing stronger again. The promise of spring, a sweet surrender from the winter. My fingers dripping with honey, the sweet taste of it in my mouth. A field filled with all the people I ever loved. Playing around were they once died, their laughter filling up my world. The feeling of belonging, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I am not surprised to see him here, my mind knows what my hearts does not want to accept. Of course he is one of my loved ones, of course he will be here. “I hope you like honey.” Is what I tell him, offering him my hand for him to taste. My finger in his mouth, lips closing around my index finger. Sucking of the sweetness I am offering him as if it is the first sweet thing he had ever tasted._

Heaven or hell, in both he is with me. Maybe dying is the better option, forever torturing him, or forever loving him. At least I can have him there. A book lying in my lap, my eyes staring at the wall. The end is coming, every resident has been interviewed. I don’t think he is planning on taking anyone there. There is something coming, something dark. I need to talk to him, need to know what will happen.

He is not in his room when I barge in. But there are noises coming from the bathroom. Maybe he is the shower? I think it will be good to have him when he is more vulnerable. Opening the door, expecting to see him naked. He is naked, but not in the way I thought he would be. Blood is streaming down his arms. Sitting in a circle of blood, snakes hissing a song of death and despair. He is performing a satanic ritual. Did I just really step in him trying to connect his father? What does he say in his prayers? ‘Daddy, help me erase the memory of this girl spoiling Harry Potter for me.’ The thought of it almost make me laugh aloud. But when he opens his eyes, all the amusing and mocking thoughts disappear. Instead all I feel is the ache I always seem to have for him. “Talking to daddy?” My voice strong, not wanting him to know what I truly think about him right now. “What do you want from me?” His eyebrow raised, ignoring my remark. “What makes you think I am here for you?” Feeling childish, annoyed by the way he makes me feel. Can’t I look at him once without me wanting to kiss him immediately? “Maybe because your thoughts are so loud I don’t even have to try to hear them?” I am getting irritated, I want to wipe that mocking smile from his face. “Maybe I wanted to recreate my dream.” A pretty smile on his face after my words. “Than do it.”

Blood boiling when I step in the circle, snakes burning away when they try to bite me. A lust for something dark, a hunger for something I shouldn’t be hungry for. “Don’t move.” A warning tone in my voice, fire burnings brighter with each passing step. The metallic smell of his blood in my nose, it is so strong I can taste it on my tongue. And that is exactly what I want, a taste. He is on his knees, blood streaming down over his body. A pretty sight, his face looking up to mine. I bent down to sit on my knees as well. My hands reaching out to touch him. Tracing the wounds he made with my fingers, collecting his blood on my skin. Nails scraping, reopening the closing wounds. A small sound escapes him when I dig my index finger into his skin. And when I am satisfied enough, I bring my wet hand to my mouth. Licking his blood of my fingers, savoring the taste of him on my tongue. It tastes as good as it had in the dream. A weird hunger for more, I want the taste of him forever in my mouth. I only have eyes for his face, for he looks at me like it is the most erotic thing he ever had seen. “Satisfied?” The tone of his voice is low. “Are you?” I ask him instead. Standing up, offering him my hand to also get up. “Not yet.” He offers me a knife. It is all about giving and taking, and right now I am only taking. I know what he wants, I know what he is hungry for. 

Cutting into my own flesh, blood dripping down over my hand, fingers wet with my own blood. Clenching my teeth because it hurts, but I offer him my wrist nonetheless. Rather harshly he grabs it, bringing his mouth down to the wound as if my blood will cure all his pain. As if my blood carries the promise of everything he longs for.

His warm tongue swiping over the skin, licking away the blood. And it stings, teeth lightly scraping the sensitive skin. I expected him to bite into my skin as I did in our dream. Instead his movements are almost erotic, lustful. Cleaning the wound with his tongue like an animal would clean out his own wound. Sucking on the skin, drinking in my blood.  
My head falling back, eyes rolling in my head to the feel of his lips. A dark power surrounding us. A last kiss of him against my skin makes the bleeding stop. Healing the wound slightly. His lips wet, my blood streaming down his chin. His eyes hooded, pupils dilated. It makes me want to give up everything, switch sides. Die for his love, I would murder everyone, anyone for him. Just to have him look like that for forever. Covered in my blood, skin marked with my claws.   
Lifting my bloodied hand, placing my index finger in front of his lips. “Suck them clean.” I order, my voice raw, barely sounding like myself. He does as he is told, sucking my fingers one by one clean. Sucking them until they’re wet with his saliva. His tongue swirling around my index finger as if it is candy. His eyes half closed, he looks good like this. Obeying me like he is not more powerful than I am. I can’t keep a small moan from escaping, the thought alone makes me want to push him down and fuck him right here.   
  
And I feel bad, I feel filthy, I feel like a sinner. Taking my hand back, we just look at each other. Both wondering what will happen next. Who will make the first move? Who will take the lead?  
  
I do, as it seems. I am the first one to lean in, a smile on my lips when I kiss him. My head tilted to the right, my tongue tasting my own blood on his lips, in his mouth. My hands on his shoulder, his hands on my back. Pressing my body closer to his. His blood wetting my dress, staining the fabric. The kisses get sloppier, we both need to breathe. Breathless kissing, I can’t get enough, don’t want this feeling to end. Thinking about nothing, forgetting about it all. Thinking of nothing but my need for him.  
  
His long fingers are undoing the corset, letting the dress fall more loosely over my chest. Breast no longer pushed up. His skin must be burning hot, but to me it feels like my own skin. Like the fire that had controlled me my whole life.  
Both his hands squeezing my breasts through the fabric, my teeth scraping the skin of his left ear. A burning in my body, I need to feel his skin against my own. Need to take control of him, need him to take control of me.  
  
Taking a step back, keeping his gaze as I undo myself from my clothing. My fingers slowly untying the laces that are keeping the dress stuck to my body.  
  
Exposing my skin, exposing my body for him to see. My eyes roaming over his, taking in the toned muscles, the glow of his skin, the blood on his arms. He looks so vulnerable, I want him to feel loved. Want him to know he matters to at least someone, want him to know with me it was never fake. I want to know every part of him. What makes him laugh, what makes him cry. I want to taste every part of his skin, make him come undone like I am the only one who can do it.  
  
Dropping down to my knees, looking up to his confused face. Kissing his tight, spreading his legs with my hands. My tongue tracing the inside of his tight, enjoying the way his breathing gets louder the higher I get.  
  
Wrapping my hand around the tip, looking up again. There is a concentrated expression on his voice, his lips moving as if he wants to say something. Slowly I move my hand down to the base. He is already so hard, all we did was kiss. All I did was kiss him.  
  
Moving in closer, bringing my face closer, pressing a soft kiss against the tip. Letting my tongue out, licking the bottom of his cock. The small moans he is making filling my head. Making me bold, daring me to take him in my mouth. Moving my mouth over his length, teasing him with my tongue. My hands on his balls, massaging them.

He is good at first, only making small movements. But when I take him in deeper he unexpectedly bucks up his hips. His cock hitting the back of my throat, causing me to make a choking sound. His hand pulling my hair, I give him a warning noise. Making it clear he should behave. I love the sounds he is making as I suck him off, love how I can make him lose control.

Moving my head back, sucking only the tip. Torturing him with my tongue, giving him barely enough. Making him moan for more, his voice needy and raw as he calls out my name.  
  
When I let him go my lips are wet and his cheeks are flushed. Standing up, I take his face in my hands. Kissing him softly, gently, like we’re lovers. “Tell me what you want, tell me what you need.” It almost sounds like he is begging. “All I need is for you to feel good.” And it’s the truth, I want my own pleasure but I want his more.

Bare ass touching the cold walls, his mouth on my throat. Kiss bites covering my skin, his hand between my legs. His index finger sliding between my folds, teasing, touching, making me produce ugly sounds. Finally he slips a finger in, curling it inside me. My breathing heavy, his other hand around my throat as he pushes me harder against the wall. And I don’t really like it, but he is not that rough. His hand is not hurting me, it is just keeping me in my place. My body moving against his hand, needing more. He pulls his hand away then,

“Lift your leg.” His words whispered in my ear. I do as what I’m told, his left hand keeping my leg in place. Burying himself in me, a deep breathe escapes him when he is fully inside. My breathing is heavy, taking in the sight of him, the feeling of him inside. And when he pulls himself out again, I miss him immediately. “Tell me what you want.” His voice strong, his question from earlier repeated. “I want all of you. I want to be the one who makes you come, I want my name on your lips as you fuck me. I want to be in your veins, loins, brain, heart.” And my answer must please him, because with one swift push he is inside me again. Fucking me against the wall. “I want…” My voice getting higher with each thrust. “I want to be all yours.” Back slamming against the tiles, the mixture of pain and pleasure building up my release. “I am yours.” His head against my neck. His hot breathing on my skin. “Say it again.” My fist clenched around the silky golden of his hair, harshly pulling at it. His head snaps backwards because of the force. A sound that is the mixture of annoyance and lust escapes him. “I am all yours, forever yours.” And I just have to look in his eyes, to know he is not just saying it out of lust. His movements are becoming sloppier, more needy. My hands on his back, my face resting on his shoulder as he hits every right spot inside. Nails drawing blood, when my body clenches around his cock. His name falling from my lips, to many times to count. His body falling against mine as he comes as well. Our breathing the only sounds filling the bathroom.

He pulls out, stepping back. His hands are keeping me steady. Taking him in, the stains of my blood are still there. His blood dried on his arms, sweat covering his skin. “You look filthy.”

Laughter escapes him, the sound louder because of the room we’re in. “Then it is a good thing we’re in the bathroom.”

Washing away the blood of our bodies, touching each other’s skin. My hands touching spots I’ve become familiar with, fingers tracing skin I want to preserve for forever. Water making our kisses wet, the sounds echoing in the bathroom. Steam surrounding our bodies. After, we don’t dry off, letting our wet bodies fall on the sheets. Skin sliding easier against each other because of the wetness. And I feel myself getting aroused again, but first I want to talk.

“To love you means to die.” I tell him, fingers intertwined between us. “You love me?” He seems surprised by this, which makes my heart ache only a little. “Since the day the only thing I wanted to see on your face was a smile.” He is silent for a while, maybe searching for a lie in my head. But when he answers the sound of his voice is choked. “That’s dumb.” Kissing him on the mouth, smiling into our kiss. “I won’t kill you.” He promises me then. And I smile again, pulling his body closer. “I know.”


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part, where the witches find themselves at the Outpost. One last battle, what will reader choose to do? Will she choose to fight Michael with her sisters, or will she stand with him through it all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a thousand years later, and here it is. The finale of one of the stories I actually started writing in the bus ride back to my home. It was November I think when I wrote this fic, now almost 9 months later the concluding part arrives. I never really planned to write a fourth part, but I started listening to the playlist again and with the emotions I was feeling, it was very easy to fall back into the dark mood that made me start writing it in the first place. Thank you all for bearing with me. 
> 
> Half of this fic was written around February/January, the other half in May and a very small part in July.

_A cold nuclear wind plays with the yellowed strings of grass. Making them sway to the right, to the left and then again back to the right. It’s making a circling path closer and closer to the lonely willow tree in the empty field. It smells like the last days of autumn, somewhere between when fruit becomes ripe or rotting._

_The sky is a light grey, the promise of rain in the circling clouds. I follow the same path the beginning storm takes, wanting to avoid the confrontation for a bit longer. Walking in circles, the grass hitting the bare skin of my legs with every step that brings me closer to them. Lonely like the tree he awaits me, his back turned against me. His aura is so dark it feels like he is the one who brings the darkness to this field, instead of the setting sun in the east._

_My arrival is like a hurricane pillaging the coast. The leaves of the tree shudder by it, the ground shakes, the wood of the tree starts to splinter. He is unfazed, his eyes plastered upon something I only now can see for the first time._

_Her neck is leaning to the right, her black dress waving in the storm. The branch she is roped to is bending because of the weight. Her neck snapped, blood beneath her nose. She hangs like her ancestors did a hundred years before. She has a name, her eyes opened and cold when she stares down on my living form. Judgement is in the death of her eyes, the future clear in the eyes I see every day in the mirror. She has a name, she is the truth. She is me._

_“Is this what will happen?” I ask him then, trying to catch his eye. “This is what you let happen.” He says. And when he laughs thunder strikes and the world burns. And like every dammed soul, I burn with it._

To love him meant to die, I’ve always known this in a way. In the genesis of our so called relationship it should have been clear to me that it would destroy the both of us. There is no end without saying goodbye, but sometimes endings happen without you wanting them to happen.

Not everything is meant to last, sometimes you just need to accept it before it eats you away. The acceptance of it being doomed might be more painful than the hope for it to be alright. But hope is a dangerous thing, for it will hurt much more when something you hoped to be good, turns out badly.

I can’t accept that there never will be a way to undo all of this without losing him as well. There is no other way. Moments like these I wonder who I love more, the world or him? My sisters or him? Isn’t the fact that I consider him as an option an answer of its own? There shouldn’t be another option than the world, but like a disease he managed to slip into my system. Corrupting my heart, with the hope that there might be something good within him. But I know there is nothing good within him, the world did end after all.

It’s a bit like wishing for something that never will be there. Or wishing for someone that you lost to death to come back. You know it isn’t there, you know it will never happen; but the what if will always be there like a semicolon ending a sentence. You will always expect there to be something more.

Absently I had been brushing Mallory her brown locks. The bun gone for once, her beautiful waves for the world to see once again. The only thing that is missing is a crown of golden leaves on her head. “How did your interview go?” I ask her, pulling the brush away from her hair.

“It was… weird.” She decides on, watching my reaction in the reflection of the mirror. “How come?” I tilt my head, trying to give her a reassuring smile. I might already know what happened, I can feel her magic growing with each day. Langdon not only seemed to stir something within me.

“I don’t want to sound like a fool, I mean… Coco and Mr. Gallant thought me ridiculous, but I am sure what I saw was real.” I move away from my spot behind her, grabbing her hand. “I won’t judge you, please tell me.”

Her dark eyes study mine for a short while. Now more than ever I wish she remembered me, I wish for her to trust me. With the hand that is not holding hers I push some of her hair back. “You can trust me, Mallory. I know there is something up with Langdon.”

She swallows, her eyes look everywhere but my face when she speaks the words.  “I think I possess magic. When he touched me something in me awakened, something deep buried inside got out.”

My head tilts to the right, I knows she is right. The end must be coming, this can only mean there is something big about to happen. “I believe you.’ I reassure Mallory. “And when the time is right, I will help you.”

I watch her redo her ridiculous looking teletubby bun. My teeth sinking into my lower lip, my eyes staring at my own reflection. I need to make a decision before it’s too late. Murder the world or murder my own heart? I should have told Cordelia about the dreams the moment I started having them. Maybe I could have perverted this whole ordeal if I did.

\--

“What is your plan? Is there even a sanctuary?” What I planned as staying in my room to think things through, ended up in me choosing to be in his company once again.

“Classified.” Is his boring repeated answer. He is reading the last pages of the Halfblood Prince, judging by the amount of pages he still has to read he’s at the part of Dumbledore’s funeral.

“Do you sympathize with Voldemort? I mean you both are antagonists in your own unique way.” Michael sighs, closing the book after my words. “Do I look like fucking Hitler to you? I didn’t kill one particular group of people in this world, I want everyone dead.” It is almost as if he feels attacked by my words.

“But you keep talking about this ‘special sort of people, the vilest of them all’ who you want to repopulate the earth with. Sounds like just another version of the  _übermensch_  to me, babe.”

He stands up from his chair, walking to where I am lounging on his bed. “Why are you even here? Except to be a bitch ofcourse.” I grin, moving my head up to watch him. “For the pleasure of your company?”

“You never do something without having a motive, I think I know you well enough by now.” But he was wrong, there was no hidden motive for me to be here. The only motive I had was to not think about him, to not think about the witches. To tease him a little, to fall in our easy way of doing like he’s still pretending to be a warlock and I am still just a confused witch with only dark dreams to worry about.

“Why do you always feel the need to analyze everything I do, to search for a reason behind everything? The world has ended, I am for certain there isn’t a sanctuary and that I will be dying in a couple days. Can’t I just torment you in the last moments of my life?”

He sits down on the bed, laying down on my legs. He is watching the ceiling to avoid my face. “I told you I wouldn’t kill you.” The atmosphere dramatically shifts to a more serious one when he confesses again.

“You just said that because you were in your post orgasm mood.” I say in an attempt to make the atmosphere less pressing. I came here to enjoy his company, not to be in my feelings.

“And now I am annoyed with you, but I still mean it.” He speaks the words towards the ceiling, and it makes my heart drop.

How can I not choose this powerful extraordinary being? How can I not love this man who is so afraid to be hurt by the ones he loves, but still manages to love? And I feel no guilt when I feel the butterflies in my stomach, feel no shame when I feel my heart beat faster. The betrayal I am about to do tastes as sweet as a summer wine. How can I not fall for his words when he brings them like this? I will love him, even if it will make bleed. However fatal my decision will be, I must not regret it. I will not regret it, to fall in parts in front of him. To bare my soul for him to concur it, maybe even destroy it.

Like an addict I will choose what is bad for me, bad for the world, but makes me feel like nothing else matters. For him I will cross the line.

I watch the ceiling as well now, giving it a smile. The realization makes the heavy feelings of despair fall of my body like a collapsing building would. I don’t have to feel ashamed for loving him any longer.

“Did you know I went to your old room to masturbate against your dusty sheets?” My words break the silence, his body shifts to watch me instead of the dark ceiling. “You are a dirty little witch, y/n.”

“Be careful with your words, Michael. Or I’ll tickle you until you’re begging for mercy once again.” The mocking laugh he lets out is enough for me to attack him with my hands. But this Michael is stronger and faster than the boy I met years ago. Before I really know it’s I who’s being tickled. His long fingers are poking between my ribs, while his other hands tries to untie the purple corset. My laughter is loud, I try to fight him of, but is has no use. When his fingers gently stroke my nude skin, I gasp. The there, but not there enough touch tickles more than his poking did. His finger push into my stomach, he lets them dance over the skin until my laughter is more a breathless sound than anything else. Tears fall from my eyes, there is a light feeling in my stomach. “Stop.” I beg him. “Please, Michael, I might pee my pants if you keep on going.” I manage to get out between my laughs. He immediately stops, he crawls up to watch my face. “Voldemort, Grindelwald or Hitler wouldn’t have stopped tickling you. But I am merciful.” I roll my eyes. “Voldemort would have fucking killed me for supporting muggles.”

There is fondness in his eyes, a lazy smile decorating his handsome face.

“Thank you for caring about my happiness, you might be the only one who didn’t have a hidden motive.” Michael speaks his words softly.  “I kind of did it for myself though, your smile is too beautiful to not want to see.” Despite my cheesy sentence he smiles again. He leans in, his soft lips meeting mine. He stops before they touch. “Don’t ever change.” He tells me then. He kisses me, I push my body against his. My fingers automatically thread through his golden locks.

It feels like it’s the last time I’ll kiss him. And maybe it is, who knows what will happen now there are not enough cubes for us to devour? Who knows what Michael will do, who knows how it is on the outside? I am not sure if I want to find out, the only thing that matters now is him.

So I give him everything, like it really will be our last time. My eyes close when he moves on top of me. My back arches to give him the opportunity to loosen up my corset even more.

With the corset gone I am left in the see through underdress. Michael presses a kiss against my collarbone. “Dresses like these look amazing on you, but they’re really annoying when I want to undress you as fast as possible.” A giggle escapes me. “What a hell that must have been in the Victorian age. The husband would’ve busted his nut before the dress even was off.” Michael looks up, his head between my breasts. “You really know how to ruin a mood.”

“It’s a gift.” My answer get lost with the sound of him tearing my dress apart. With the fabric gone my body is exposed to him. “Michael, that dress was brand new. What will Ms. Venable think?” I can’t help it, I need to tease him.

“Just shut it, Y/N. Or I’ll make you.” I cock my brow. “Are you’re gonna stuff my mouth or something?”

His grin is wicked. “I bet you’d like that.” I want to answer him again, but he is finally removing his clothing. He lies next to me when he is naked. My eyes fall on what is beneath his navel.

He is not fully erected, yet, but I will make sure he will be. Michael leans on his elbows, watching me watch him. “What are you waiting for? Are you going to use your mouth for something useful today or not?” I am offended, but also slightly turned on by his demanding tone.

I wrap my mouth around the head, pushing my flat tongue against his sensitive skin. I don’t want to give him too much right away, but with the way his breathing becomes uneven is it hard to not give him all.

My head moves up and down, his hand placed on the back of my hand is setting the rhythm. I moan against him, trying to take him as deep as I can. I only gag a little when he hits the back of my throat. I try to take him deeper again, but he suddenly stills.

“Stop it.” His voice is sharp, his hand falls from my head. Confused I look up. He is sweating and his pupils are blown. Oh,  _oh_ , so that is what is going on. “Lie down, now it is your turn.”

But I am done with foreplay, I am ready for him as I always am. I can still taste him in my mouth, he looks at me like I am the one who created all the stars in the galaxy. It is enough, for now. “Cut the foreplay Michael. Give me what I truly want now.” He sits up, moving over the bed to sit between my knees.

“Spread your legs, little witch.” His hair falls in his face, his cheeks are coloured red because of the heat. He sits between my legs, one hand holding onto my hip, the other one guides his cock inside me.

It feels different than the other times. My body adjusting to the size of him so easily now. I know how he will move, he knows how I will respond. There is something comfortable in it now; it’s like reading your favourite book for the 100th time. You know how it will make you feel and you’re exited for it. We fall so easy in our pattern of colliding bodies that I wonder how it was once different. Every groan he gives me I store somewhere deep in my memory to remember. Every movement that makes him do so I’ll treasure. My body will remember his as his will mine.

Every curve slapping, the way he smells, the way his magic collides with mine. All of it I will treasure for eternity. Will it end badly, I will still possess the knowledge that he once loved me like this. I will remember the way I love him, I will treasure it, not feel ashamed for it.

His name screamed into the flesh of his shoulder, my teeth biting into it. His nails are pressed into my hips until they draw blood. He rides out his orgasm until I no longer can feel my legs. I feel oddly empty when he slips out and lets his body fall next to mine. Our uneven breathing all that is to be heard.

My heart might break if this is all that is meant for us. To only feel want, to only be in sync when we have sex. It is the only thing we never argued about, it is the only moment where I do not worry about anything else. Is teasing and sex all we have? He only loves me when we’re naked, my contradicting feelings always return when he slips out. Can I ever not blame him for the destruction of the world, can he ever not blame me for the murder of his mother figure?

“Do you think we will survive?” I ask him. A part of me does not want to know his answer, a part of me longs for the rejection he will give me. “Do you think we will ever not blame each other for all that went wrong?” I continue when he does not answer immediately.

“Can you?” He asks. I am silent, thinking about it. No, I cannot, I will never not miss my sisters. “I am not sure.”

Michael sighs, he takes my hands in his. “I know I can’t. But I also can’t go on without you. Therefore we must learn to live with it.”

“The strong survive, we must survive this as well.” I tell him. I push my body closer to his, wanting to enjoy this moment of understanding for a while. His room is filled with silence for a short while after.

“You should get dressed, you don’t want to be late to this little thing Venable prepared for the lot of you.” I sigh loudly, not really wanting to leave the bed and the moment we just had. “Aren’t you coming?” He laughs then, as if I told him a joke only he knows the clue of. “You will see me when the party is over.”

\--

Teeth pierce through the skin of the apple, its sweet taste almost burning on my tongue. I want to moan because of the pleasure to be eating something else than a tasteless cube. But pleasure suddenly transform in panic when foam comes from my mouth. Bodies are falling down, and I fall with them. The apple still in my hand when I hit the floor.

_The sun shines, but I no longer will. The same tree, once destroyed by my storm like appearance, will be the one to destroy me at last. The rope thick and scratching against the thin skin of my throat. It is getting harder to breathe, even though I know I don’t really need to._

_If I die like this, it’s justice in its purest form. I will die with their laugher like a melody filling up my ears. Like the Greek Titaness Themis they serve what I deserve._

_The laughter dies when I do. My eyes wishing to be closed for forever, to lay buried with the sisters I will never see again. The rope is cut, my body falling to the ground. A soft cry escapes me, when I see what I am lying on. The bones of my sisters are surrounding me, I can still feel their energy, I can still smell the faintest of their magic._

_My eyes look up, to meet the ones of my savior. Like the beast he is, he watches me. A hunger in his icy eyes, it feels like being back to when the dreams started. Is this a dream? Can it be a dream if I am self-aware of it?_

_“The strong survive, are you strong enough?” He speaks with a voice that does not belong to him but to me. “I don’t know, are you?”_

_My heart shredded in two with cold steel. His warm hand around the handle, a fire burning as I bleed out in front of him. Gasping for air, my hands are holding the handle now. He does not laugh, but there is no sadness there either when he watches me die._

I can still taste the rotting sweetness of the apple in my mouth when my eyes open. Gasping my hands go to were the knife gutted its way into my chest. A steady hand is placed upon my shoulder, a voice calm and strong. “You did so good, you were so strong.” The soft brown eyes of the supreme look with worry down on my face. “Cordelia, I remember it all, the spell… The spell broke as soon as I stepped into the Outpost.”

She helps me sit up straight. “You survived it, you survived him.” I nod, but I am not sure if I did. He killed me, he let me die. How can I have chosen him above everything else, when he so clearly did not choose me?

\--

He will not be death for long, I know this. But it strangely hurts to see him lying there in his own blood. Even though he was the one behind my own demise, I feel terrible about his.

I try to find Coco when I can’t find anyone else. Instead I find him, Coco her body dropping to the ground when our eyes meet.

“You killed me.” I take a step forward, my hands forming to a fist. My magic running through my veins, preparing itself to lash out. “You told me you’d never kill me.” Tears out of anger are forming in my eyes, but it does not show in my voice. His face bloodied, the heart still in his hand. “As if I wouldn’t bring you back.”

The inconsiderate tone, the almost bored expression he wears. He says it like it’s the most logical thing in the world. It makes my blood boil, heart beat faster and fingers move to create a spark. “It’s not as if you weren’t planning to betray me all along. You knew you weren’t the last witch.” He continues, stepping over Coco’s body to come closer to my angry form.

“I wasn’t going to betray you, I would never do that to you. Or myself.” He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. "If that were the truth, you could have been truthful to me.” Now it is my time to get annoyed, taking a step closer him as well. “As if you wouldn’t kill them the moment I told you I wasn’t the last one. I might love you, but I love my sisters as well. You can love more than one people, you know that right?” He rolls his eyes. “Yes I know that, because I love you and Ms. Mead.”

My treacherous heart almost swells at his confession. How sad is it that I only need to hear him say those words for me to fall in his arms? How sad is it that I condoned myself to nothing more than a pathetic love hungry girl? I am a powerful witch, I might not the supreme, but I know I am powerful enough. How can he make me this weak and strong at the same time?

We are toe to toe now, I can feel his magic pulsing, controlled and deathly. He is ready to strike, and so am I. But not with magic, it is words I choose.

“You say you love me, but still you are keen on killing the ones I love. If you truly love me, you would turn your back on me right now. You would leave the Outpost without harming more people. If you truly love me you will not go through with this. Because it will be your end.”

He kisses me then, desperately he holds onto my face like it will be the last time. My eyes close, leaning into him. Easily I fall into him, the kiss tastes like blood. But I am not sure if I care enough.

When he leans back his pupils are blazed and his cheeks are flushed. “Because I love you is the reason why I need to go through with it. I love you, but this I need to do for me. Only after that we can give into each other completely.”

He lets go of my face, his eyes staring into mine for one last time, and then he leaves me.

It takes me a couple seconds to come to myself. Almost paralyzed I try to think of my next step. Let him kill my sisters and then maybe let him steal me away? Or will I help my sisters defeat the one I love? I chose him before, but look where it got me. He killed me nonetheless, even if he was planning to bring me back. He did what he promised not to do.

Can I accept his betrayal? I can and I cannot. I love him too much to leave him, but I also don’t want to let my heart lead me too much. Trust is not something that is easily fixed, and he did break it as if it were nothing.

My decision is made when my eyes fall upon Coco’s dead body. Too many people had been hurt, I need to fix this.

I am just in time to see Myrtle Snow die, Mallory is in the tub. She’s bleeding, I need to help her. Grabbing her hand, muttering a healing spell over and over. Until my voice cracks and the door slams open. And it all happens in the following seconds; Mallory her eyes open, Michael plunges towards us. His fingers touch the fabric of my dress, when I get pulled into the dark black water of the tub.

\--

_He says my name like a prayer, desperation in the way he calls out for me. Dressed like I am going to a funeral, the black of the lace waving in the storm. The taste of salt on my tongue, the wind playing with my hair as I step forward. The literal end of the world, standing at the edge of the end. The sea both wild and unpredictable beneath us. He looks younger, blonde hair wild and short. A fear in the blue of his eyes, hesitant he follows me. “Don’t be afraid, it won’t hurt.”_

_The water is as grey as the sky, but both used to be as blue as his eyes. It can be blue again, it can be peaceful again. I finally know this, finally have the realization. Undoing myself of the clothing, skin bare without secrets. I have nothing to hide anymore, I am ready to face the truth. His fingers fiddling with the fabric of his black blouse, eyes avoiding mine. “You can tell me what you want to say.”_

_Loosening up his buttons, showing the skin beneath. Baring his soul for my eyes only to see. “Will you be there?” Taking his hand, only feeling the heat of his skin. “I will.”_

_Taking the jump, fingers intertwined. Waves are washing me out, cleansing my soul. All my sins are there to see, corrupting the water with a bloody red color. Fire leaving my veins, sinking into the water, floating through the greyness. Disappearing into the void, the only thing on my mind is the color of his eyes and the way he used to smile._

 

The sun has already risen when my eyes open for the first time in this new timeline. A dreamless sleep, there is no fear running through my body, the feeling of something being wrong is not there. I am not sure to feel relief or to feel disappointment. It’s a bit of both, to be still torn between old feelings more disappointing than anything else. Will I ever learn? Even dying couldn’t change my heart.

I wait weeks for one of them to come back. But neither Mallory nor Michael shows up. I mourn them both, my heart aching for what could have been and what wasn’t meant to last.

And life in this timeline goes on, so I must as well. Ignoring the growing feelings of sadness somewhere far in the back of my heart. Convincing myself it is for the best. If I pretend hard enough I can act like I never knew him. Like he never was a part of my life, like he is just a memory to be treasured.

I even considered magic to curse all of the memories away, but I chickened out when I picked up the book to utter the spell. I don’t want to erase him, I want to live in the blissful ignorance the other version of me had.  

When Cordelia calls in an emergency meeting for the senior witches, I don’t really know what to expect. Apparently the Hawthorne warlocks are up to no good, even without the Anti-Christ to challenge us with, they seem to find something else to bore us with.

\--

My yawn hidden behind my hand, my legs are crossed, a book lying on my knees. It is night but it can be anything in this bunker they call a school. Being back here makes me feel nauseous. Memories of being stuck here for too long clouding my head. I can’t sleep, probably will never be able to sleep in this god forsaken place. On a night like this we met for the first time, in this exact place even. I try to remember him fondly, to not feel regret for never being able to have this memory in this timeline. To not feel sad for not being able to make more memories. I try to treasure the ones I have, but somehow it is never enough.

There is still no sign of Mallory, but there is no sign of him either. I don’t even know why we were summoned here by the warlocks. There is nothing to show off, there is nothing for them to challenge us with. The world is oddly balanced again, it is like nothing really changed. Life is like it was before Michael came into it. It’s a terrifying thing to be bored by it.

I miss him so much in moments like these. Moments where I long to hear his voice, to see him smile, to see him roll his eyes when I annoy him. I miss him so much during days like these, the memories that once stained this place taunting me. It’s a bit like visiting a graveyard, being here. A place of goodbyes. Not a stone remembering me of the person, but the atmosphere itself.

It’s so silent in the library, so dark, even with the candles that are burning everywhere. The sob that escapes me surprises me, I did not notice I was crying. I let them fall for once, embracing the sadness that comes with losing someone you love. My arms hugging the pillow, pressing it hard against my chest. In a way it comforts me, squeezing into the material like it is a person.

And when the crying stops, I continue to read my book as if nothing happened. My eyes sliding over the pages without really reading them, but pretending the words are reaching me is enough for now.

_“Can’t sleep?”_

It takes all my strength to not run towards him and his cocky smile when he breaks the silence. A replica of the one living in my head is standing at the other side of the room. Watching me like I am a riddle that needs to be solved.

“Who are you?” I try to sound not too eager, but I fail miserably at it. My heart is beating so fast I can feel it in my throat. “You know who I am, as I know who you are.”

He is coming for me, crossing the room with sure steps. “How?” Is all I manage to get out. When he stands in front of me, his eyes look down on me. There is excitement rushing through my body, I can feel his magic colliding with mine. But it is nothing like the magic I felt when this place was still an Outpost. But it is neither the magic the boy possessed who I just wanted to give a smile.

The tone of his voice almost fond, the smile he gives me after filled with promises.

_“Didn’t they tell you? The strong survive.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sun ofcourse sets in the west, but in the dream world it does not. I imagine this world to be a bit like a mirror, where everything seems to be the same, but actually is quite the opposite.
> 
> Also, I think it is common knowledge Grindelwald is based on Hitler, but in my head Voldemort always fitted within that picture as well.
> 
> I could not give this story a bad ending, even though in my first draft it was supposed to end badly and tragic for the both of them. I like this open end way better, for it leaves a lot possibilities open. Will there be another apocalypse? What happened to Mallory? Did Michael ever finish Harry Potter? Questions I have the answers to in my head, but are not needed to be answered. Imagine whatever you like to happen to them.
> 
> Thank you all for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write another part.


End file.
